Consistent Blood Protection
by Right What Is Wrong
Summary: The Killing Curse still bounces.


**Author's Note** : For all that this is crack, I think this it's still _less_ bizarre than the canon statement that Harry was tethered to life while Voldemort lived… because his blood was in Voldemort's veins. Does that mean blood banks are as effective as Horcruxes?

* * *

 _Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear —_

 _He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and –_

He blinked, and confirmed to himself that he was, indeed, still there; when he looked down, there was no body dramatically slumped on the ground, looking as though it were only asleep. The same could not be said for Voldemort, who was conspicuously absent, with only a small pile of ash where he had been.

"Er," he said. "What just happened?"

"Oh, sweet Circe, not _again,_ " Narcissa Malfoy wailed. "I thought surely he would be wiser than that…"

"Than what?" Harry said. He looked at the Death Eaters. "I'm sorry, if I seem a tad gormless, it's because I was really expecting to be dead by now. I'm, uh, sure you were all expecting the same too. Sorry about that."

"I was expecting the Dark Lord to learn from his prior mistake," Narcissa moaned. "This is just so – so _embarrassing…_ "

"Look, you seem to know what's going on," he said to Narcissa. The Death Eaters looked at her attentively as well; even Nagini, unceremoniously left behind, seemed somehow to look hopeful. "Can you explain?"

"Potter, you know perfectly well," she said, shaking her head. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

She looked at him closely for a moment. "Oh, Severus wasn't exaggerating about your intellect, then. I see." Before he could object, she said, "Why, it's very simple. Your Mudblood mother's protection, of course."

Harry blinked at her. "But… But that's impossible," he said slowly. "Voldemort went through all that trouble to get my blood so he could touch me–"

"And why would that have nullified the blood protection?" she asked, now sounding as confused as he was. "He still remained the Dark Lord. So he _personally_ was no longer harmed when he touched you, because _he_ was now included under the blood protection – But his _Killing Curse_ , the Dark Lord's Killing Curse, was not, and it continued to be affected the same way as ever. Which is to say, it rebounded."

"So he got fried like last time?" Harry said in confusion. "But – wait, Dumbledore told me it would go away the moment I turned seventeen and moved out from under my relatives' roof–"

"Oh, no, that's just silly," she said. "If _that_ were the case, the Dark Lord's own inclusion in the blood protection would have worn off almost instantly. After all, _he_ was of age and _he_ didn't live with your relatives."

"But my blood ran in his veins–"

"And? Your blood runs in your veins too, I presume."

His eyes were beginning to cross. Shaking his head to clear it, he said, "So… you're telling me that he's scarpered off to Alb– Eastern Europe again."

"Is that where he hid last time?" she said vaguely. "In which case, I suppose so. Forgive me, I don't know the Dark Lord's vacation homes." She turned to Bellatrix. "Bella, dear, would you know?"

"Men are all worthless wretches," Bellatrix was muttering under her breath. "Love you and leave you… deadbeats, all of them… and do I even get child support? No! Thirteen years in Azkaban, and not one Knut of alimony… Now _another_ thirteen years? Oh, we'll see about that, you bounder, you cheat, you cad…"

Bellatrix's actual husband shifted uncomfortably next to her. For the sake of everyone present, including himself, Harry hoped desperately he'd misheard that phrase that sounded an awful lot like "child support".

"I don't think she does," Narcissa said, turning back to Harry. "Well, then – good heavens, boy, for what possible reason are you just standing there? You have N.E.W.T.s for which to study – cram, more honestly, since it's the end of term and I daresay you've been spending your time on other nonsense."

"What?" Harry said, wondering if he'd somehow missed several minutes worth of conversation. "Um, aren't you forgetting – them?" he asked, gesturing to the Death Eaters. They appeared strangely disorganized and bewildered; several were wandering around, looking lost, while one kept poking Hagrid a stick, seemingly out of boredom more than cruelty.

"Oh, them?" Narcissa said, an edge of disdain entering her voice. "Well, there are a few who will still stir up trouble, like dear Bella. You probably shouldn't stand around looking dim in front of them, no." Bellatrix was still muttering, with her current subject of discourse centering around how wizards were all slobs who sat around playing with their snakes while witches did all the work. "For the most part, though, they're a gaggle of sniveling cowards who will plead Imperius before the hour is out, mark my words – the only time they'll pose any threat whatsoever is when they get drunk and frisky at sporting events and start blithering at each other about the _good old days_. Provided they don't get whisky-wand before they can do anything, of course."

"Narcissa!" cried a very wounded Lucius.

"Well, a gaggle of sniveling cowards and _one_ sexy, cunning husband, who brilliantly runs circles around all those silly, stupid blood-traitors and Muggle-lovers in 'law enforcement', of course. That's what I meant. Come here, snuggle-wumpkins. Let me show you just how much Cissy wants to make up her bad, mean, awful words to you…"

Harry wished he could expire from sheer nausea; that would solve his 'not dead' problem very nicely. As he looked away, he thought he might have glimpsed Nagini looking at him pleadingly, silently begging to be put out of her misery; at the moment, he had no sympathy to spare on anyone but himself.

"-wandpoint weddings, that's what Aunt Walburga always told me. One spell for the old husband, and then you tell the new one he's next. _That's_ what I should have done all along. My mistake, for not holding to the old ways. Yes indeed, if he ever shows his face again, I'll give that wretch a piece of my mind–"

"I wasn't aware you had any of those left to give away," Lucius Malfoy said under his breath as Narcissa draped herself over him. His sister-in-law stopped her ranting just long enough to squint at him suspiciously.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Harry shook his head as the Death Eaters began to disperse; some were throwing aside their masks, ditching their cloaks, and adorning their faces with various battle-scars and superficial injuries as he watched. "I guess I'd better be going, then," he said. "Another thirteen years, d'you think?"

"If that works for you," Narcissa offered, looking up from her husband. "Oh, and if it wouldn't be too much trouble, can you stand in the way of his Killing Curse a bit earlier next time? It would save us all a terrible amount of hassle."


End file.
